


Not Dark Yet

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Pansexual Poe, instafic, jaunty scarves and capes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 03:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18932881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Poe has a terrible, terrific habit of falling in love with  whoever he works with.





	Not Dark Yet

**Author's Note:**

> [Vanity Fair portraits](https://spaceoperafeerie.tumblr.com/post/185087113549/spaceoperafeerie-poe-lando-totally-fucked) made me do it.
> 
> Title and mood from [Dylan.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JBHyE18L3o)

He doesn't do goodbyes any more. None of them do; there have been more than enough farewells already. 

Poe is _literally_ halfway to the hatch, patting down his ammo pack and holster as he runs through the mission objectives.

"Just a moment—" Lando calls.

The hatch creaks as it opens; if he makes it back, he'll need to see to that, barter for some of the lubricant spray the _Falcon_ prefers. The first-night darkness outside creeps around the hatch's edges.

"Poe," Lando says, more firmly.

Poe stops short. He tips forward, overcome with momentum, but stays upright. Before he can turn around, he hears Lando clucking his tongue.

_Yes, captain_ , Poe doesn't say. He doesn't need to.

"I've got this thing to do," Poe says, addressing the open door. "Big job, probably going to get bloody, lots depending on me."

"Indeed," Lando replies, and he has caught up with Poe now. He stands close enough that his breath is warm on Poe's neck. "As I said, just a moment of your time."

Poe turns around. He doesn't need to take care not to bump Lando; they've grown accustomed to each other, the space they take up, the room they need. They're practically chest to chest now.

Lando's hair is lit from behind by the brighter passage. He's dark and warm, his hair nearly silver as morning. He rolls one shoulder to adjust his cape, then takes one corner of it in both his hands. His gaze never wavers from Poe's as he rips off a length of the fabric lining.

"Sir —"

Lando shakes his head infinitesimally to cut Poe off. He drapes the gray, filmy fabric around Poe's neck, wrapping it at the hollow of his throat. His thumbs might linger there, press slightly, before lifting free. His palms slide down Poe's shoulder to cup the joints.

Lando's expression is, as usual, mild. Illegible, studiously so. Intent and curious, entirely outward-directed.

_Never take a gambler seriously,_ Poe's father used to say. _You're just inviting trouble and heartache._ He was talking about his own father, long since lost to the seedier sabacc dives on the far side of Macondo. He also proved, again and again over the years, incapable of taking his own advice.

Poe presses his lips together. Whether that's to stop smiling or speaking, he isn't sure. He does know he doesn't want to be thinking about his dad while standing this close to someone whose dick he was sucking just a couple hours ago. 

"Come back," Lando says. He has no patience with superstition. There are no jinxes.

Poe's not so sure. He touches the scarf. "Thank you."

He wears his mother's ring. He gave Finn his jacket, then his spare clothes. Rey and Finn traded arm wraps; Leia hung a necklace around Rey's neck and twined another around Rose's wrist. 

This is how they make promises now. There are no more weddings, no more medals, just this small group of sentients trying like hell to keep going. What they give and share is all they have. They're together this way, somehow, in scraps and clasps.

Lando's mustache is soft, whispering, against Poe's face as they kiss. He claps Poe a few times on the back heartily before pushing him playfully away.

Poe has a terrible, terrific habit of falling in love with whoever he works with. From Muran, all the way back at the academy, through Leia, Bastian, Cai, even Kaydel briefly during their mutiny. It's the intimacy of partnership, learning someone else's rhythm, adjusting and encouraging, that Poe cannot seem to resist.

And Finn, of course. Always Finn, both exemplar type and category of one. Two-thirds of the galaxy away, busy with his own missions, Finn probably isn't spending his free time on his knees or learning how best to wear a full formal cape. If they find their way back to each other, however, Poe expects to share all that he's learned and done with Finn, and vice versa.

"Sooner you go," Lando says, "Sooner you get to come back."

Poe nods and loops the scarf one more time around his neck before turning back toward the hatch.


End file.
